


Glutton for Punishment

by Moonshine_Givens



Series: Thinking of you [2]
Category: Justified
Genre: Anal Sex, Dominance, Implied Boyd Crowder/Raylan Givens, Light Bondage, M/M, PWP, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonshine_Givens/pseuds/Moonshine_Givens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boyd has two longtime friends: one is a violent man, who has a liking for shooting assholes and has put Boyd behind jail bars more than a couple of times.<br/>The other one is Raylan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glutton for Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, Gunslingers! I feel like I've been posting too much in the fandom, and I'm sorry if I've been annoying lately. This one is a request from a lovely Anon on my tumblr. Anon, I'm not sure I got what you wanted right, so please, if you can, send me a note on tumblr or in here to tell me what you think! I really hope you like it, I wrote it for you!  
> Once again this is not my OTP or my mother language, so please be kind with any mistakes.

The awful thing about Raylan Givens is that you can’t easily forget his face. Boyd knows him for years now, and he doesn’t quite hope he’ll someday wake up and have forgotten all about the Givens boy that once dug coal with him. But Boyd could at least hope not to see the man’s face every time he close his eyes, the little satisfied smirk the asshole had in his too pretty features the last time they were together: Boyd handcuffed to a fucking tree, while Raylan walked away, long legs and the ever present hat. Boyd wishes he wouldn’t remember the feel of Raylan’s hands against him, the way Raylan manhandled him as he did that jackass move. He’s sure lust was all over his face, but he couldn’t help it – even as annoyed as he was at Raylan, the man was too damn hot for his own good.

Now he’s sitting in the car with Colt, and his wrists are still half sore from the handcuffs, his ass still half frozen, and his cock still half hard. It’s not going to go away soon, Boyd knows, because his blood is pumping fast with the excitement of being closer to catch Drew Thompson, with almost dying today, and with – damn it – seeing Raylan’s infuriating face after being apart for so much time. As he sees it, he has a couple of options: he can wait to meet Ava in about half an hour, and celebrate the good news coming from the hills; or…

The thing is, he doesn’t want to bring that home to Ava. He doesn’t want to bring the violence and the tough love of wanting Raylan Givens, of getting hard as his body is slammed against a tree. He loves her with the tenderness the future mother of his child deserves; he loves Raylan – and he doesn’t lie to himself about it, he’s better than Raylan at this – with the wildness of the hunter, even though he’s more often than not the pray.

She’s not really an option then, not today. So that leaves him with…

“My good friend Colt!” Boyd says as he spreads his legs shameless in the passenger seat, his dick finding a good amount of interest in this turn of events. “You know what I was thinking about today as I had my ass dragged to that lame shack and my hands tied in my back?”

“That those hill people are fuckin’ crazy?”

“Well, that thought has indeed crossed my mind more than once today, but that wasn’t what I was going to mention, no. I was thinking about the first time you’ve put me in jail, man.”

The moment Boyd’s words sink, Colt’s attitude changes: he goes from relaxed to tense in 0.3 secs, his shoulders straightening and his fingers flexing against the wheel. It’s clear the man knows what Boyd is talking about – of course he would remember that the first time he put Boyd in jail was also the first time Boyd sucked him, all those years back. Boyd smiles with easiness, as if he had just made a commentary about the weather, watching Colton without turning his head completely. He’s cautious to keep his tone light, making the whole conversation sound as if they were discussing football.

“Man, those were wild days, remember that?”

“I… yeah, Boyd, I do.”

“Well, that’s surely good to hear, I was about to get offended here. I’m pretty sure I gave you a class A blowjob that day, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Colton looked like he very much minded Boyd saying it, but he just laughs briefly, a nervous sound.

“No, I-I do remember, sure, it’s just, damn, I was kind of wondering what the hell could have brought that memory back.”

“Oh, you can rest assured I didn’t need to count on that resource to buy my freedom. Marshal Givens ensured that.” Boyd gets suddenly afraid that Colt will hear the desire thick in his voice as he says Raylan’s name, afraid the man will notice how he shivers just thinking about that damn marshal. “No, I guess what got me thinking about that day was… I don’t know, maybe the way they had me in cuffs?”

They didn’t have him in cuffs, they tied Boyd’s hands with rope, but Colton doesn’t need to know that. 

“The way they were dragging me around, shoving me on the ground, reminded me of how you used to do me those days.” Boyd waits, but Colt remains silent. To hell with precaution. “Or maybe, Colt, I don’t know, maybe I just mentioned that ‘cause I want to get in your pants, boy.”

That gets Colt looking straight at him for a whole second, and Boyd is caught hoping no stray dog is wandering around in the road. Other than that, he’s not very concerned – he’s certain the man won’t be too hard to convince.

“Now, Colt, my friend, I don’t think this is very safe driving. Maybe you should pull over and we can talk a bit more for a sec?”

Colton does exactly what he’s told, and they’re both sitting in the car in a dark road half way to Harlan, dark enough they can pretend they’re anywhere else.

“Boyd, what about A…”

“Before you say anything,” Boyd talks louder, not wanting to hear Ava’s name in Colt’s voice. “how about we pretend we’re back at the way we were when we first met? I’m not your friend, I’m not your employer, I’m just a little shit who has to be put up in his place in the hard way. You up for that?”

“Shit, Boyd, I haven’t even…”

Boyd had to keep himself from rolling his eyes: it was incredibly stupid that Colton still thought that they could turn back from that now. He fights the urge and, instead, moves fast, leaning closer and putting his hand in Colt’s crotch, no second thoughts about it.

“You gonna tell me you don’t wanna?” His lips are against Colt’s ear now, and Boyd takes a moment to bite the lobe, lick the spot right behind his ear, suck at his neck as he strokes the hardening cock under his fingers. “You sure about that?”

Then everything happens really fast: Colton is gone and out of the car before Boyd can quite understand what the hell was happening. A second later, the passenger door opens, and Colt is on him, dragging him out of the car with big hands fisted in the front of his shirt. Boyd is turned roughly and his chest is suddenly against the car, Colt’s hands on his wrists, pulling his arms back in a painful angle.

He feels the cold metal bite against his skin, hears the dry click sound, and that’s it: it’s not Colt behind him anymore, it’s Raylan, Raylan’s body pressing against his, Raylan’s fingers tangling in his hair and pulling his neck back, Raylan’s cuffs restraining his hands. Boyd grows harder than he thought it was possible incredibly fast, without a single finger in his cock – not that he’s expecting to be jerked off anytime soon.

It’s not about his pleasure, after all.

“You’ve been causing trouble, punk? You fucking things up?” Colton is the one talking against his ear now, but he doesn’t lick, he doesn’t suck: he pulls at Boyd’s hair and exposes his neck. “Behaving like a little bitch? We ain’t got no little bitches in the army, son. This a place for men.”

As he talks, his right hand works Boyd’s belt, opening it with surprisingly easiness. Boyd’s paints and underwear are going down his legs in no time, and Boyd’s mind’s spinning, playing tricks with him: Colton is the one talking to him, his commanding voice calling him names; Raylan is the one pressing against his bare ass, hard as a rock, keeping Boyd pinned against the car with his weight. It’s a confusing illusion, but Boyd lets himself sunk into it – this is probably as closer as he’s ever going to get of having both men at once.

He’s pulled from the car, and gets confused all over again – Boyd’s being manhandled with so much force his foot barely touch the ground as he is dragged. Colt opens the back door and throws him forceful against the backseat: his upper body impacts against the leather and he loses all the breath in his lungs as his chest hits the seat hard, no way for him to break the fall. His legs are kept hanging outside the car, his ass bare to the night air, his hard cock trapped between the seat and his stomach. Boyd feels the hands in him again, Raylan’s hands, squeezing his ass and playing with his balls: he spreads his legs more, moaning as a hand travel from the inside of his thigh all the way through his crack.

There’s a shifts behind him, and Boyd can suddenly feel it all: the legs that are forcing his own legs even further apart; the fingers slowly approaching his asshole, with teasing touches; the hard cock that is already leaking pressing on his thighs; the weight of the man’s body against his own, painful as he leans over his cuffed hands; the long hair against his neck; the warm breath over his face.

“You gonna get fucked, boy. That’s what you want? That’s why you were acting like a bitch?”

Boyd can’t answer, can’t barely make a sound, his heart pounding fast and Colt’s weight against his chest.

A hard slap falls against his ass, and it’s not playful, it’s not a sexy-for-fun spanking, this is a full force slap, all of Raylan’s – Colt’s, Colt’s! – strength in one act. It hurts and it brings tears to Boyd’s eyes, it’ll surely leave a bruise and what will he tell Ava?, it’s humiliating and violent and the most amazing thing anyone has ever done to him.

…because this is it, this is the pain he’s been waiting for his whole life, this is how Raylan will finally make him pay for all of his sins, Raylan the lawman, the righteous warrior, the fearless cowboy, Raylan that was always so much better than him, so much more, Raylan will come with punishment and fire like the angels in Sodom, burning burning burning…

“You better answer me when I ask you, boy. You wanna get fucked?”

“Yes!” Boyd screams, the last of his breath, two fingers breaching him at the same time.

The body crashing him lifts, and Boyd can breathe again, focuses entirely in the dry catch of the fingers against his rim. It’s not exactly painful, or yet, it is painful, but not unbearable, Boyd knows how to do this, how to relax and open himself up to the digits trying to reach inside him. He feels when Colt (Colt Colt Colt _Colton_ …) crooks his fingers inside him, rubbing against his walls and forcing his hole to accommodate the invasion fast.

Just as fast the fingers are gone, and Boyd thinks this is it: he’s getting ready to fill the pressure of a cock against his opening any time now. That’s not what he gets, then: he gets broad hands spreading his ass cheeks, thumbs hooking on his hole, making him wider. There’s movement behind him once again, a sound and then wetness: Colton must have just spit against his hole, making him wet, spreading the liquid around with his fingers. His fingers are wetter as well, and he must have licked then, must have made them wet with spit, the only lube Boyd is going to get.

 _Then_ this is it: the fingers are gone once again and Colt is pressing inside inside inside inside, never stopping, never backing away, slowly making himself at home in Boyd’s body. He’s much, much ticker than the two fingers he used to prepare Boyd, and once he’s half way in, Boyd doesn’t think it’s possible for the member to go any further, simply not possible, as the man can’t move forward: but Colt just braces his hands on each side of the seat Boyd is lying on, putting more strength in the movement and making Boyd take it.

And that’s a whole world of pain right there, but it’s also a whole world of pleasure, of being filled with so much more than he was expecting; it’s the faint taste of blood because he’s been biting his lips without realizing, it’s the numb feeling in his fingers from being kept in tight cuffs, it’s the fingers tangling in his hair and closing on his hipbones, pulling him back on a cock that’s stretching him wild and pushing against his very sinful soul.

It’s fucking hot, that’s what it is.

Boyd wants a second to regroup, to figure himself out, to understand where he really is and who is fucking him: if it’s Raylan behind him, pushing inside in his official US Marshal’s car; if it’s Colton punishing him for being a rebel and a smart ass, no good for the army... he opens his mouth to ask for that second, but there are already balls hitting hard against the back of his thighs, and the movements are only picking up speed as the man closes both hands around his hips.

It’s Colt, Boyd can tell now, as he slowly gets used to the ponding, to the feeling that the cock lodge in his ass is going to split him in half. It doesn’t stop being intense, not even for a second, because Colt is thick and every time he thrusts in Boyd has to remember to just relax. But Colt keeps going for long enough, hitting his sweet spot with every other thrust, and Boyd feels his whole body shiver when the man grabs the front of his thighs and shoves all the way in, staying inside for a moment longer. He makes circling movements with his hips, and Boyd can feel it all over his body, almost making him blind with pleasure.

He may be saying something, may be calling Boyd a bitch and a faggot, but as his cock stretches Boyd even more as he moves in circles, Boyd can’t hear anything right.

It stays like that for just a moment, though, and then Colt is pounding against his ass again, long thrusts that leave just the tip of his cock in and bury it again to the hilt, all of Colt’s strength concentrated in the point where their bodies meet.

Boyd wants to hold on something, wishes he could sink his nails in the leather scratching his left cheekbone: if he could, he would still his own body enough that his cock wouldn’t be rubbing against the side of the seat, building pressure to a point where Boyd can only concentrate in not coming. He’s leaking more than he thought possible, and he feels as if he’s been hard for his whole life; in fact, he feels as if his whole life he had been there, bended in the waste, ass in the air, taking whatever Colt wants to give him.

He’s thinking he can manage, manage to stay in control enough to see it through, but then the game changes: Colt is not talking anymore, is not leaning against him, is not holding in by his hips – he stands straight, and his right hands are tangling in Boyd’s spike hair again, but not pulling his neck back, no. This time, the hand is pushing him forward, lightly, and Boyd presses his face in the seat as he raises his ass even higher. But then, the man’s left hand is touching the handcuffs, closing against his bruised wrists, and Boyd loses it: loses as Raylan pulls at the cuffs, and he must know how much it hurts, how much the metal is cutting Boyd’s skin and how much pain is on his shoulder. Raylan is always arresting him, always closing the handcuffs, always pulling at his wrists, and it hurts, every time it hurts, but it’s Raylan and it’s hot and Boyd can’t…

Somewhere in his mind Boyd knows it’s not really Raylan behind him, it’s not really Raylan’s cock making him moan loudly and pressing against his prostate, but the knowledge is buried deep inside, and Boyd feels he’s about to call for him, to moan his name, because he’s coming and Raylan is right there with him, making him hurt, _making him pay_ , and…

As Boyd starts to moan his release, Colt pressures the hand holding his hair hard against the seat, and every sound Boyd could have made – a moan, a scream or, a very real possibility, Raylan’s name – ends up muffled by the leather, Boyd’s face smashed in the back seat. He can’t breathe, his lungs hurt and he’s still coming, Colt still pounding. Finally, he’s not coming anymore, but his body is shacking with aftershocks and Colt hasn’t moved his hands, still pressing his face down, still pulling at the cuffs. He believes for a whole second that he’s going to pass out, and he can’t even feel Colt’s cock anymore, but then the man raises his hand and Boyd can breathe again.

Slowly he realizes Colt had come and is pulling out of him with a sudden move. Boyd is quite sure he can’t move; that he won’t be able to move for at least three whole days, maybe a week; he won’t be sitting down in his ass for the rest of the year. In another important note, he probably lost the movement in both his arms, so he might as well cut them off and avoid further pain. To add a touch of humiliation to the whole deal, Colt’s come is dripping from his well-fucked-and-damn-right-abused hole, the feel of it against his tights making him shiver.

Colton’s hands are on him again in a few moments, and Boyd gets disoriented for a second, what the hell is the man doing touching his wrists again? But Colt is just picking the lock of the handcuffs, freeing his hands at last. Boyd still hasn’t moved, hasn’t looked back, silently afraid of the man that he’ll see when he turns: afraid he’ll catch the glimpse of a hat, the illusion of a cowboy. But there’s only Colt behind him, huge and safe Colt, helping him get inside his pants with awkward movements. Boyd is up, then, leaning against the car as he tries to walk himself back to the passenger seat, still not sure if his shoulders will ever be in the right place again after today – his ass will surely take a while to heal from all that.

Colt is silent in the driver’s seat, watching the empty road with undivided attention. Boyd will let him be with the awkwardness for a while: right now, he wants to take the moment for himself, closing his eyes with a satisfied smirk as all the pain in his used body settles in a kind of pleasure in itself – bruises and scratches as much a part of his orgasm as the come staining the back seat.

Boyd has many regrets in his life, and he was never one to say he did all the right choices. One thing, though, he did get right: he was always very good in making friends.

**Author's Note:**

> FIRST FIC ABOUT COLT, YAY! Actually this is pretty lame, guys, this fic was a longtime coming.  
> Hope you all enjoy this one!  
> You wanna reach me, I'm at ohthati.tumblr.com , as usual!  
> Thanks for reading it.


End file.
